


Messy Apron, No Sleeves

by artistocrazy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cunnilingus, Erzsi exploits the hell out of that, F/M, Food Kink, Fucking over food, Kitchen Sex, Lead up to Kitchen Sex, Lead up to Table Sex, Lead up to cunnilingus, Lime, Nudity, Roderich can also get high key aggressive at a certain point of horniness, Roderich is lowkey horny, Table Sex, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistocrazy/pseuds/artistocrazy
Summary: Erzsébet prepares a Valentine’s Day breakfast, but convinces Roderich to eat out.
Relationships: Austria/Hungary (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Messy Apron, No Sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, corny wlw joke - I get it)

Roderich could have sworn Erzsébet’s hair reached down further than that. Lord knows how long it actually was, amidst those messy, wheaty curls and waves. He might have taken more notice to their golden shine competing with the twinkle of the dawning sun over the snow. Perhaps he’d have taken more time to notice how soft it appeared in the morning, how darling she looked over the stove doting over something sweet or savory - scents that coaxed him awake along with the brewing coffee. 

Except he wasn’t looking out the window at the snow. And he wasn’t thinking about how considerate Erzsébet was being in making him a Valentine’s Day breakfast. He was feeling far enough from sweet and doting. His eyes were drawn to his lover’s bare backside, save for her hair falling just above the curve of her rear, which as far as he was aware possessed no discernible undergarment. 

A simple enough situation - she was nude, and he was regrettably horny.

He did not ask to be thrust awake so suddenly. And yet, as if he were a Pavlovian dog, he stood at attention as she shifted her weight to either side, letting her hips peak out from behind those curls. Erzsébet already knew he’d stumbled his way downstairs to the kitchen and figured it was a good sign his footsteps had stopped for so long. And then she heard that helpless, little swallow. It was her invitation to speak.

“Jó reggelt, drágám,” she cooed gently over her shoulder. “Feel free to sit down. Breakfast should be ready soon.”

With a gentle gasp, the Austrian seated himself with his back to the stove. If he didn’t try to temper himself, he wouldn’t be of much use for whatever she was planning. So he sat with his back and its emerging goosebumps facing her.

Cooking while nude... What a reckless idea!

So very reckless and silly and dangerous...

And it was going right to his crotch, damn it all.

He would engage in small talk. Easy. Nothing unusual about his exquisite ex-wife parading around the kitchen without undergarments. For all he knew, she did that sort of thing all the time... Oh, he needed to depart from that train of thought quickly.

“What have you been making?” he asked, after clearing his throat to keep his voice grounded. Casual. Did it help to hide any nervous, pubescent-sounding whine? He liked to think so. “Smells rather tempt- ah, delectable.”

With a satisfied hum, the Hungarian flipped something sizzling in her skillet. “Salmon omelettes, pancakes, ham, Viennese coffee, and a special treat.”

Roderich cocked his head to the side, half expecting her to be there with a peck for his cheek, or maybe a whisper in his ear. To say he was eager was an understatement. “You won’t tell me what that is?”

“I think you’ll figure it out soon enough,” she replied through a grin, prepared plate in hand behind his back. Her other fingers fiddled with his night shirt collar and maybe released a chill or two from her lover, as well as a humming giggle. It was hard to tell if it was nerves or excitement that caused that laugh to bubble out of his throat. Maybe both? She’d take either.

“Darling, there’s something you need to know about me,” Roderich answered her quietly, reaching his arm across to lace their fingers, “and it is that between my mind and my loins there is only enough blood for one to work properly at a time.”

“You sound coherent,” the Hungarian teased, leaning (or maybe pressing) herself onto his back.

The action earned her a deep moan that almost growled. It didn’t sound like his stomach, but Erzsébet could believe she’d gotten to his stomach.

At least, she’d gone in that general direction.

Noticing he had little to say and having placed the plate down, Erzsébet reached for a napkin and began stuffing it into his shirt. At least, that was her excuse to discretely smooth her hands down his shirt and chest. “You haven’t even seen the surprise yet.”

Wouldn’t she be surprised if he weaved his way around and roughly pinned her to straddle his lap?

Well, so would _he_ , to be fair.

Much too tired for such things on an empty stomach. At least, that’s what he’d tell himself.

For the time being, he’d gotten a gentle hold of one of her wrists and began sensually kissing up the crook of her arm. She’d dotted that warm, hazelnut perfume in her elbow crease, standing out among the residual salt and spice - she could hardly expect him not to nearly bury his nose there.

“Frankly I’m surprised you haven’t marred that supple skin of yours over that hot, greasy stove,” he murmured, with his lips and breath on her causing Erzsébet to let out her own flustered giggle.

“You really think I’d be so reckless as to pan fry something completely nude?”

With more haste, the Austrian trailed his way up Erzsébet’s arm to meet her eyes, fully intending to execute his plan, full or empty stomach.

“For what,” _smooch_ , “you know” _smooch_ , “it might do to me,” _smooch_ , “yes.”

Before Roderich could apply the final kiss to her lips, to catch her off guard, he felt two fingers press against his. Opening his eyes in some confusion, he saw Erzsébet’s gaze on him and then those fingers gently tap the bottom of his chin up and back to face the table. 

He got the message. No peeking.

“Clear your spot and prepare yourself, Mr. Edelstein,” Erzsébet purred in his ear. Roderich hadn’t a clue of what she had planned, but he wasn’t exactly prone to speculation beyond the thought of his ex-wife’s... perks.

Hastily clearing her a new seat, Roderich’s eyes landed first on her confirmed exposed rear before she slid it further onto the middle of the table to put in full view what had to have been a magnum opus of kitschy musical aprons. The most beautiful creature on this Earth, wearing the ugliest creation he’d yet seen. Erzsébet’s full, voluptuous bosom proudly boasted the embroidered phrase “Treble-maker” as she propped herself to sit up straight, suggestively and unmistakably placing it in his view.

“Oh, Gott,” he groaned and recoiled to his side. He had only hoped Gilbert didn’t put her up to this. “Where on Earth did you find that wretched thing?”

“You mean in your pantry with the collection?” Erzsébet sassed him, with her hands to her hips.

“The collection I never asked to have that you keep adding onto? That one?”

“Well, if you never wear them,” she reasoned, leaning forward to trace her fingers along and tug at his collar, “I thought I might make better use of them. A regifting, maybe.”

“It would only be regifting if I wore it for you,” Roderich bickered back, more so to tease than argue. After it was out there, the Austrian clearly understood it wasn’t his brain’s turn for blood flow.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” she replied, sitting back and crossing her legs. “I did get them because I thought you’d look sexy in them. But I suppose I’ve learned my lesson,” Erzsébet sighed and scooted herself to the edge of the table in a feigned slump. “You don’t like them.”

“Now-now hold on a rest,” the Austrian drew himself on her direction, with his forearms spreading on the table. He brought one hand to his chin to ‘ponder’ in thought (or perhaps appear less desperate a man for carnal delights), “I am capable of looking at things from a more nuanced perspective.”

With an inquisitive look, Erzsébet bid him answer while shifting to one hip. “Your thoughts?”

With his eyes cast down to the ‘apron’, he droned out his response behind a stone face. “That is, undoubtedly, the most hideous thing I’ve seen grace your body yet.”

“Really,” she observed, peeking over her shoulder at the tie, “I thought the way it ties up in the back was flattering.”

“No, it is,” he corrected her, still looking her over and speaking like he was in thought. “Very flattering indeed.”

With a gentle clear of her throat, Erzsébet coaxed her ex-husband’s eyes to meet hers again. “So you want to take it?”

“No, you misunderstand. I want the honor.”

Her eyebrow rose in a perplexed way that could have spoiled the moment. “Of taking it?”

“No,” he furrowed his brow, annoyed at himself for not being an easily understood flirt. With a gentle scoff, he peered down again at the apron as a more obvious gesture.

A demure smile was finding its way back to her lips, and Erzsébet lightly pinched at one of the straps on her shoulders while she leaned toward his face, planting a hand down to hold herself upright. “Of taking it _off_?”

No need to keep her hand there. On impulse, Roderich’s hands quickly weaved their way to her back as he pulled and pressed her chest into him. “Of _tearing_ it off,” he growled back, “Ob _viously_.”

It didn’t take long for her to catch her breath, but she certainly needed it for one for her lover’s more assertive moments.

“I’d like that” she purred it nearly into his mouth upon pulling him in for a fairly involved kiss. Sensing her lover moving to his feet and placing a hand on the table, Erzsébet pushed him back down and broke their lips for a moment. “And, just so you know, I’m more than happy to let you have that special treat first with breakfast.”

Letting his eyes draw down for a moment to her spreading legs, Roderich still felt the need to ask. Adjusting his glasses for the moment, he settled his voice low for the clarification, so as to not sour the mood. “And is that what I-“

“Mhmm,” she simpered with a quiet chuckle, reclining back on the table. The loose bangs covering her lidded eyes had him transfixed for a moment until she smoothed down the apron. Bunching up the apron like a skirt, the question came out with a moaning candence. “Hungry, Drágám?”

Feeling his hands snugly shift her hips down and ghost a touch on the bulge he’d downplayed this entire time (making her think about asking him for sausage afterwards), Roderich left a grazing kiss along her neck before whispering his answer in her ear. “Starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Get it? SHE’S the meal! 🙃
> 
> (Yes, I know - I write Roderich with a ripped clothes fetish a lot. He doesn’t get many opportunities to feel forceful, okay?)


End file.
